Fugitive Heart - By Bonnie Dee Page 0,62

up the drive—a crunch of tires on the gravel and a dust cloud drifting around the curve. Her heart sped, and she wished she’d grabbed a knife in the kitchen. Maybe she wasn’t entirely over the episode with the New Yorkers. Flashbacks to that horrible night were never far from her consciousness.

The blue Ford was unfamiliar, but the driver wasn’t.

“Nick,” she shouted, dropping the sandal and rushing toward the car.

The vehicle stopped abruptly, though the engine still ran. The door flew open. Nick jumped out and raced toward her, yelling her name. His expression was frantic and for a moment, Ames gazed at him, puzzled.

Then she glanced down at her stained shirt and understood. “No. It’s not blood; it’s just paint. I made a mess. It’s just paint.”

Apparently she wasn’t the only one who relived fears from the mob’s attack.

Nick grabbed her despite her protests that he would ruin his clothes. He clutched her fiercely, so hard she wasn’t sure she could breathe, but that was okay. Breathing was overrated. He whispered her name over and over as he held her.

She gave up worrying about his clothes and put her arms around him too. “It’s okay. I’m so sorry you got scared.”

He finally calmed down enough to let go and back away, but he only went to an arm’s length and he held her shoulders as he looked her up and down. Nick had a smear of red paint on his neck and cheek. At last he smiled. “That’s a pretty good color on you. Is it as good on the walls? Let’s go take a look.”

An absurd happiness filled her, and she had to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” he asked as he pulled her in through the front door. He stopped and sniffed. “Mm, this place smells like paint and you.”

“I think we’re going to be all right,” she told him.

Chapter Fifteen

Wiping the paint from Ames took much longer than was strictly necessary. They stripped and stood naked in the middle of the drop cloth in the master bedroom, then slowly reacquainted themselves with each other’s bodies. Every generous curve of Ames’s frame was territory to be reclaimed. Nick slid his hands over smooth skin, smearing paint rather than removing it, feeling the texture and warmth of the woman he’d missed so much over the past weeks.

Back in New York for the interviews with Giordano, Nick had readjusted to the city at once. As he waited to cross Canal Street, it seemed to him that his interlude in Arnesdale had been a dream, with Ames the only bright spot in a nightmare.

But texts and phone calls had assured him he hadn’t imagined her or the offbeat town where he now owned a home. He wanted to explain it to her, tell her about the moment he knew where he belonged, but now he had more important things to attend to, like thoroughly kissing Ames.

Nick plunged a hand into her hair, holding her head steady so he could kiss her even deeper. Her curls coiled around his fingers, refusing to let go when he at last pulled away. Together they sank to their knees on the stained drop cloth, kissing, touching, rubbing skin against skin.

“Oh yes, right there,” Ames murmured as he kissed along her clavicle and teased her nipples to rigid points with his fingers. “And there,” she squeaked when he snaked one hand down between her legs.

He looked at her beautiful face, the half-closed eyes and parted lips signaling her desire. “Miss me?”

“Not much. I’ve been busy.” She gasped when he tickled her clit.

“Me too. I hardly thought of you at all—no more than twenty-three hours of every day.” He moved his mouth to her breasts, taking the fullness into his mouth, sucking on her nipples until she moaned.

Her soft, feminine sounds made him hard as granite, but he continued to play it light. “Broke the lease on my apartment and took care of some other stuff,” he murmured against her belly as he laid her back on the floor.

“Yeah? I, uh, replaced the flooring.” She settled onto her back with a sigh and stretched out, legs apart. Nick wanted nothing more than to lie in the cradle of her hips and plunge deep inside her, but instead he nuzzled lower, inhaling the scent of her sex.

“Looks good,” he grunted. “The place feels like home.” He flicked his tongue over her clit, and Ames arched her back, lifting into his touch.

Nick slid his hands around the backs of her